Malawi - The back road to Livingstonia, presumably

Just another morning on the road.  Fancy a quick swim before we ride?

Up the coast a little further and I've reached the town of Mzuzu.  I'm riding again with Daan & Mijam and we're all very low on fuel.  The first gas station signals its empty, and the next is looking dicey too:  a line of cars is queuing around the block and a crowd of thirty have surrounded the single pump of unleaded with large plastic cans... just trying to get a little of the liquid gold before it runs out.  We don't know when the next delivery will be - tomorrow, perhaps?

The chances of filling my giant 33 litre tank, and the same for both of D&M's bikes, are looking bad.  At times like this, one has to think strategically.  And become a nasty bastard.

Vwaza Wildlife Reserve... Hippos not in shot, yet.

Several hours waiting in the hot sun for a small amount of petrol was not a good option; neither was riding to the next town and hoping for luck there - we didn't have enough, and our planned route is taking us even further away.

We decide instead to discreetly 'tip' the attendant the equivalent of a day's wages, and after doing so are able to queue jump immediately.  It wasn't a pretty solution, but done quickly and cleanly everyone seems ok about it - there's hardly any grumbling from the other guys lining up (and most of those are trying to sell us gas from their cans for twice the normal rate).  So, for a couple of dollars, this worked best for us.  I wonder if our selfish action is costing the locals even more than their time?

Mirjam catches up on the guidebook...

By 4pm we've covered another 150 kilometres, the last 30 of which are on a very rough road - a mixture of soft sand and packed mud, deep pot holes and ruts.  This is the kind of thing Daan has trained Mijam to deal with as a matter of course, and they are flying along on the two Hondas. 

I'm following, enjoying the wild side but trying so hard not to bust up another rear shock absorber - a bad pot hole would be enough, so I'm taking it carefully and catching up on the smoother stuff.

We roll into a game park for the night: Vwaza Wildlife Reserve.  It's expensive and the facilities are very basic, but camping quietly by the edge of the hippo-filled Lake Kazuni is wonderful.  We watch elephants in the distance, spy antelope edging closer in the fading light, and then wait...  We're waiting for the arrival of the hippos as they exit the water and come to feed on the shore.  More than five hundred of these manish boys live in the muddy waters.

Not a bad view - from the sleeping bag, I kid you not.

We're sitting quietly on the veranda of a locked cabin as the podgy hippos emerge - burbing and grumbling loudly, their noises echoing across the lake.  I'm a little nervous, as are Daan and Mijam, and we eye our tents with trepidation.  The ground-floor dwellings are on the plain and can be surrounded by hippo or elephants - there are no fences, only paths worn by the noctural wanderers. 

We're not using fly-sheets on our tents - the weather is warm; the moon full and the sky cloudless.  As we all try to drift off to sleep - ignoring the cries of night animals - I'm still worried.  Waking up face-to-face with a huge wild animal is not something I've prepared for, whatever my brother may joke to the contrary.  The mesh wall of the tent seems very flimsy tonight.  Hell, I'd not do this in a field of full of cows.

A fitful night follows.  The dark shapes don't approach any closer - at least, not when I'm wide-eyed, staring out.  We've been assured that an elephant will gently step over your tent ropes, if you are in the way, and you'll probably not even hear them.  It's small comfort.

Daan watches the local kids appear from 'nowhere'

In the morning - a beautiful sight complete with a herd of antelope - I'm pleasingly un-squashed; and with the bravado of daylight, a little disappointed not to even see the fresh sign of a creature that wandered close.  I guess the smelly socks and boots positioned at the corners of my tent kept them away, eh?!

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I'm ready for another D&M challenge this morning, Saturday.  We've retraced our tracks out of the national park and are covering another long stretch of sandy lumps and bumps.  I'm getting the feel for the sand again, but it still takes a tremendous effort of will power to commit properly and power through the trecherous stuff.  A fish-tailing laden GSA is suitably African in size and weight, compared to the nimble little farm-motorbikes I'd played with back in Moab, Utah USA.  I have to remember those briefly-learned skills and use them again now, if I'm going to avoid pitching the bike every day.

Add a steep gradient, rocks & loose shale.  Ride gently.

The back road north, between Rumphi and Livingstonia is our preferred route.  It comes with yet another warning from the guide book, map and GPS:  this is really 4x4 country, and in the wet season there would be no chance of getting through.  But, cautiously confident in our ability and our bikes, we agree to take it on.  Having three people to deal with any incidents is an advantage (especially for me).  That we are well matched in off-road experience and ability means that we help one another out when needed, and make decent distances between rest stops.

The result is one of the best off-roading days I've had in Africa.  We cruise along the remote mud road, enjoying the hilly scenery, the scattered huts and farming folk.  We get plenty of waves and at the sight of us everyone stops to stare - almost without exception we get a smile or nod, and at each stop people join us to chat.

Margaret, a 15-year old farmers daughter, stands silently as we rest in the shade.  We pulled off on to a small track for a little peace, and she doesn't intrude at all.  I've struck up conversation and Daan gives her a peppermint.  Her English is remarkably good and she's telling us where the different members of her family live, how and where they farm, and where the nearest borehole is - seeing as how the one in front of us now lacks a pump.  She's lovely, and it's much more enjoyable meeting people like her, somewhere like this, than following the main trunk road along the lake.

The ex-colonial old missionary town of Livingstonia sits high on an escarpment overlooking the lake.  To get there we have first to overcome the road, which deteriorates as I start to ascend.  Fesh-fesh (that talcum-powder type dust) lies thick on the hills, concealing the sharp rocks underneath.  Ruts and bumps tug at our front tyres, but with our tyre pressures reduced deliberately, we can ride through without trouble.

Red bricks and flower gardens - in AFRICA?!  (per Monty Python) 

Carefully surmounting each and every hazard we finally make it to Livingstonia.  The settlement is charming - red sand-stone bricks with a very British style.  The style is as old as the plaques (the town was established in 1884),  although the local university now occupy most of the buildings.  With lovely views, wide tree-lined streets and a cooler climate this is somewhere to savour for a little while.

Fesh fesh dust is tricky to keep out of the 'tache.

I'm really tired now, and it takes quite a few nibbles (samosas, crepes and biscuits) to get my blood sugar back to normal.  It's a not a good feeling to face a steep, slippery slope knowing that your legs are already trembling with fatigue.

But with a late lunch inside me I'm now out of excuses.  We start the tricky, technical descent down the escarpment.  A few kiliometres down a switchback leads us into a campsite - the Mushroom Lodge, it's called - and we set up camp and enjoy the stunning views out over the countryside far below.  This alone was worth all the sweat and strain of getting here.

Cliff-edge view over Lake Malawi from the Livingstonia escarpment

With a beer in hand we toast a successful mini-adventure, and salute the near-misses of the day.  Best of all, I kept my bike upright at all times and the other two have gallantly dropped theirs to make our score sheets more even...

We'll rest up here for a couple of days before descending the rest of the way down to Lake Malawi, and then the border with Tanzania.

PS  Don't forget to check out the SmugMug site for a large number of photos - there are only so many I can pick out for the blog notes :)  

http://ridinginthetracksofgiants.smugmug.com/Other/RITTOG-Malawi/25165716_7hSw7f